


Absence

by fandomvision



Series: "A" Continuation of the End [3]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, all the Rickyl feels, writing what comes to mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomvision/pseuds/fandomvision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things gone from Rick's life, but he's acquired a few things that are even more valuable than those that are absent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence

There were a lot of things he missed about the World Before. Hot water. Truly clean clothes. Electricity. Television. But probably the one thing he missed the most was the food. No McDonald's or Applebee's here. If you were hungry at midnight, you were just shit outta luck. Sometimes just being hungry at all left you S.o.L. anyway. No turkey on Thanksgiving. Hell, they weren't even all that sure when Thanksgiving was any more. Not that they had all that much to be thankful for either. It wasn't like time really mattered though he missed the structure of it all. Didn't matter what time of the morning it was, just that it was morning. It didn't matter any longer if it was June or August, just that it was summer and not winter. Life was both simpler and a fuck ton more difficult for it.

 

Swiftly slinking his way along the open space between their car and the side of the grocery store that was currently their target, Rick pulled the hammer on his Colt Python back his buck knife already in his other hand. It was easy to note the tell-tale groan and shuffle of at least two Walkers. It wasn't audible over the pounding of his own heart, but he was certain that Carl had done the same as he'd stayed close. Michonne undoubtedly already had her katana sword out. This was their life now. Again. Survival. Quiet kills of the undead. Guns as a necessary back up even in the hands of his young son. They would always respect the chaotic existence of the undead, but it was living they feared more than anything any more. The Rick Grimes of the World Before, the one who'd sworn an oath as an officer of the law and a Sheriff's Deputy, would have had a breakdown at the sight of Carl ready to take on the Walkers around the corner like it was just another day in the life. The man he was now was grateful for such a blessedly adept young man as his son had become. Certainly, it had taken him a good long while to acknowledge that there was no way Carl, in this world, was going to stay a little boy as long as he would have before the Turn, but now that he'd accepted it and assimilated the knowledge into himself, he found he could handle Carl beside him. In fact, he preferred it sometimes.

 

Silent as a shadow, Michonne slunk past them and Rick and Carl pressed themselves closer to the warm brick of the building's side. Apparently, the sight around the corner had been promising as Michonne wasted no time in gliding around it and decapitating three Walkers all on her own. Where the third had come from, was beyond him. He supposed it could have been idle until Michonne had popped out from around the corner. Rick watched them fall, glanced about for more, and then stepped out when none appeared. Carl was right on his heels.

 

"I'll get the car."

 

It was all that Michonne needed to say. It was just plain logical to have the only means of a fast escape as close as was safely possible to the entrance. Rick and Carl moved to peer through the glass of the front doors while the car – a General Motors Suburban from the eighties actually – rumbled quietly to life and rolled over to them. It appeared that this store at least was relatively untouched. Rick felt a little swell of hope rise in his chest. It was sad that he was relieved that the townspeople of this place had been evacuated, considering he now knew that no refuge had awaited anyone who wasn't willing to seek it themselves.

 

The vehicle they'd procured could easily hold enough food to last them a good few weeks. With the strange placement of this grocery, which seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere with very little around it except gas stations and fast food restaurants, it may have even been overlooked somehow. He could only hope. Judith needed formula and baby food. They all needed so many things: food and medicine prime among them.

 

Starting all over was hell.

 

The engine went quiet again and Rick glanced back as Michonne exited the Suburban, near silently shutting the door before moving around the front to join them. It took the three of them, but the sliding doors finally caved to their determination and opened enough for them to slide through. Two Walkers greeted them almost instantly. Michonne made quick work of them.

 

Gazing about Rick noticed that the architects had been wise, installing translucent ceiling panels that allowed the light of day into the store. In the World Before it would have saved on electricity. Now, it kept them from having to waste their batteries. The next twenty minutes were spent combing the place for other Walkers. None were forthcoming and Rick got the sinking suspicion that the two they'd done in had cleared this place and then succumbed to the Infection somehow or another.

 

"We stay together," Rick said softly as he turned back to his small group. "We get as many duffles as we can find and fill them with as much food as we can find. Then we set that by the door. We'll move onto the medicines and toiletries after that."

 

"Got it," Carl agreed with a nod that mirrored Michonne's own head bob, a clear indicator that she thought things were going too easily. Still, she moved with them as they made their way to the luggage aisle near the back of the store. Several hours later found them still loading suitcases with over the counter drugs, meds from behind the counter and all the vitamins and supplements that they could possibly take. They had taken coolers from the camping aisle and three large tents. Any and all supplies that could potentially come in handy were going into the back of the old GMC.

 

All the while, Carl grinned from ear to ear pleased with his take of comic books and novels. When at last they were out of duffles and suitcases and even purses, they moved to the front of the store and peered out. Nothing. A little more effort and the doors were open wide enough to start assembly-lining the bags into the back of the Suburban. Without care to being able to see out the back window, the three of them – Carl passing each back, box, cooler or suitcase to Michonne who in turn passed it to Rick – managed to stuff the ancient SUV. A little more effort forced the store's doors mostly closed again. With any luck they'd be able to come back for anything they'd been unable to take this time. Rick in particular had made sure to gather a good deal of clothes this run too, but they'd be needing more with winter approaching fast.

 

It wasn't until they were on their way back to their new base that Michonne finally spoke up. "I think there's going to be a lot of relieved people when we get back to camp."

 

"I reckon yer right," Rick murmured softly. "'Bout time we all got a bit of a breather."

 

Carl looked up from his comic book and glanced first to his right at Michonne and then to his left at his father. "We're alive and together. I think that's a bit of a break, isn't it? Considering."

 

Rick and Michonne shared a brief 'well, look-it here' look over Carl's head as the boy continued to volley his attention between them. For being a mere fourteen years old, the boy was beginning to mature a little bit already. Rick had pretty much forgiven Carl his unruliness and childish behavior up to this point. Lori, god rest her, hadn't been the type of mother to encourage age-defying maturity, adamantly claiming that they needed to let Carl be an innocent for as long as they could even after the world went to Hell. Seconds after Carl had voiced his encouraging thoughts, Rick smiled down at him.

 

"Yer absolutely right, Carl. We're alive. We're together. That counts fer a lot in this world."

 

Beaming, Carl returned to his comics and Michonne turned her attention out the window with a content and happy smile. Rick, refocused on the road before them, clear as it was, and aimed them for their new home. After all, as he'd come to realize, home was wherever the people you called family were.

 

As was their routine now, Rick backed the Suburban right up to the wraparound porch of the medium sized Cape Cod style home they were holed up in. They'd been at this new location for about three days now, Daryl having found it set off a not-quite main road into the middle of the woods while tracking a couple of deer, and aside from the lonely old man that had reanimated inside the home itself, no Walkers had trundled through, individually or in herds, so far as anyone in their dwindled group had noticed. It was a very welcome reprieve after pressing on and on following their escape from Terminus just over a week earlier.

 

The front door opened as Rick and Michonne slid out of the cab, and Daryl emerged arms empty of Judith so that he could help unload the haul. Glenn came out practically on Daryl's heels followed by Maggie. Carol, Sasha and Bob soon followed, each with a rifle. The old man had seemed like he'd prepared for _something_ apocalyptic given the near-empty shelves of food storage in what should have been a great room and the guns that had been stashed away in the master suite's closet hidey-hole. Luckily, the old man had left the cubby open when he'd passed on, allowing them to find it at all. The group was reveling in the security brought by being better armed than they'd been of late.

 

"This is quite a haul, Grimes," Daryl commented as he shouldered two of the bulging duffles.

 

"There's more," Rick responded, reaching in to pull out a couple of the smaller suitcases while Glenn and Maggie snatched up the straps of every purse they could each grab. "We jus' couldn't fit it all at once. We'll have t' go back in a day or two."

 

It was encouraging to see all of the smiling faces in response to such promising news. In high spirits, they had the vehicle empty and closed up in no time at all. Just before closing the front door behind her, Michonne, the last to enter, took a good long look around. Rick agreed with the sentiment of unease. They needed a defendable home. Something with some security against the Walkers and other survivors. It was a bit to ask, but maybe next time they went on a run, they'd have Daryl tag along with the truck he'd found and hotwired yesterday. With the truck they could raid the garden center of the little store and come back with fortification. Something like the prison.

 

For now, he would be thankful for what they had.

 

Moving into the kitchen, Rick laid the last of the bags on the floor by the kitchen table near the other bags and then moved to lean back against the nearest wall. The women, Carol, Michonne, Tara, Sasha and Maggie, were dutifully sorting the items while Bob, Rick, Glenn and Carl watched on, awaiting instructions. Batteries went into the designated hard plastic container. The canned foods were passed to Maggie and Glenn so that they could be sorted and put in their proper places on the shelves or placed into totes that would later be hidden away for safe keeping. The totes had been an ingenious idea offered forward by none other than Daryl. He'd mentioned something about burying moonshine that Rick had immediately decided he didn't want to know about, but was impressed with the idea that they could keep food stored and hidden in such a fashion and keep it hidden in the wilderness without fear of spoiling or contaminating the food.

 

Looking around the room at the happy, chattering people he called family, he felt the absence of those no longer with them. Most of those people were ghosts who had given their lives one way or another, willingly and not, so that in the end the people before him could live. It was a battle of odds and so far, his most beloved family was mostly winning. However, three in particular had moved on to a greater calling. Rick wondered idly how far Abraham, Eugene and Rosita had gotten by now and if, when they reached Washinton DC, they'd be able to find a way to do something about the state the world was in. Maggie's gleeful voice broke into his thoughts, turning them back to the here and now where he had learned they served him best.

 

"I can't believe y' got this much," Maggie was murmuring. "You guys run inta any trouble?"

 

Michonne's grin was no little bit feral. "Nothin' we couldn't handle. A handful of Walkers. Nothing more."

 

"Fortunate," Carol put in and smiled briefly at them.

 

"Anything interesting happen here while we were away?" Rick couldn't help but ask.

 

"Nah," Daryl answered and swaggered into the room with Judith balanced on one hip. Rick's baby girl looked around the kitchen at the people gathered and contentedly shoved a fist into her mouth. "We just held down the fort. It was so damn borin' here, I'm goin' with y'all next time."

 

Well, now it wasn't about asking Daryl to come along so much as telling him what they'd be doing. "Walk with me?"

 

Daryl glanced around a moment before handing Judy off to Carl, who took her with a happy smile. Rick took in the scene while Daryl made his way over and then together they headed out the front door. The quiet was nice as they stepped off the porch and ambled side by side toward the stone fence that surrounded the yard back and front. Once they'd come up to it, Rick turned and sat on it. Daryl came to a stop just in front of him.

 

"What's on yer mind?" Daryl murmured and settled into a comfortable stance. Rick admired him from head to toe for just a second before looking on down the top of the fence.

 

"I'd like t' use the next run t' gather fencin' supplies."

 

Daryl spit off to the side and wiped his mouth, looking thoughtful. "You think we should stay here?"

 

There was no mistaking the disbelief in the other man's soft tones. Rick shrugged. "We aren't goin' t' be able t' reclaim the prison. Wouldn't want t' anyway. It's unlikely we'll find another place as secure as that before winter really sets in. Here's better than the side o' the road."

 

Narrowed blue eyes studied him for several long moments before Daryl slowly nodded and then spun to look about them. "We can set up tree houses for watch towers in those two trees too," he said, immediately on board with the idea. He point to the tall, many branched monstrosity in the front yard and its twin near the back. Each sat in opposite corners of the yard.

 

"We'll need lumber," Rick concurred and pushed himself to his feet. "All told we can have everything done in a week once we have the supplies. I wanted to double up the chain link fencing with some privacy fencing."

 

Pausing to glance around some more Rick rubbed the back of his head with his left hand, but froze when Daryl reached out and caught his wrist. Rick turned back to the other man and looked down at his hand. Daryl's thumb was rubbing lightly at the pale tanless line on his ring finger. Realization dawned and Rick slowly let his eyes drift up to search Daryl's features.

 

The hunter was staring, brows pinched and mouth a little thinner than usual. It made his heart hurt a little to actually look at the empty space where so much love had been once upon a time, but Daryl's hand was warm around his fingers. The gentle rubbing caress of his calloused thumb was soothing away a bit of the ache. That empty space was slowly refilling and with something stronger, more powerful and deeper rooted this time around.

 

Voice a little hoarse from the emotions playing under his calm exterior, Rick murmured a gentle, "Daryl?"

 

The redneck looked up. "Y'still ain' put it back on."

 

Ah. So he'd been aware for a while and was just trying to understand why Rick hadn't put his wedding band back on. "No," he answered.

 

"Why not?"

 

At least Daryl wasn't one to beat around the bush. "Because Lori's…she's gone, and even before then I had decided I didn't want her to have my heart for eternity after all. She barely deserved to have it those last few months before… before everything fell into this living hell. Let alone…after…"

 

Rick looked away and let out a slightly frustrated sigh through his nose. It was so hard to explain in words. He still loved her, but in the end he hadn't been in love with her any more. Not after Shane. After that winter before Judith was born. He'd felt obligated more than anything and every time he thought that, thought about how he'd taken his heart back from her after her reaction to his admission of guilt for his part in Shane's death, he felt like the worst kind of man.

 

"Hey." Daryl's voice drew his attention back and Rick turned burning blue eyes on the gruff man before him. Daryl tugged and as he'd recently grown accustomed to doing, Rick closed the distance between them. It was awkward at first, Daryl clearly not knowing how to do exactly what he wanted, but after a moment their tangle of arms settled around each other and Rick sighed into Daryl's shoulder.

 

"It's your heart, man. You do whatever you want with it."

 

The words were awkward too. Daryl clearly didn't know how to speak to someone about their guilt or grief or feelings of inadequacy. It was the second most comforting moment of Rick's post-prison life. The most comforting moment would have to have been that night beside the tire of an old abandoned Suburban with Daryl beside him, quietly accepting him for the man he'd become. Funny, but the absence of the weight of that wedding band made Rick feel a little younger just then. A little less world worn. A little less beat down by loss after loss after loss. Tightening his arms around the other man, Rick chuckled.

 

"Well, if that's the case then…I'm giving it t' you." Rick's mouth found the side of Daryl's neck and he pressed a soft, lingering kiss there. Daryl went still as a statue. Rick, used to Daryl's skipping record routine when it came to deeper emotions, decided to play a little dirty and dragged his tongue over the salty skin behind Daryl's ear. The man reacted immediately, shoving Rick away and cursing while he wiped at the saliva slick spot with his sleeve.

 

"What the fuck, Grimes?!"

 

"Thought you might need a little jump start after that stall out," Rick teased. Daryl lunged and swiped at him. From the looks of it, he was trying to get Rick in a headlock. Rick ducked, laughing as he darted away and through the yard. Daryl managed to tackle him halfway through the back yard and together they went down hard. Rick managed to struggle onto his back but from there, he was stuck. Pinned by Daryl's weight and agile body, Rick panted, staring up into the unreadable face of his would-be lover. Had he pushed too far this time?

 

After several long moments, Daryl's fingers loosened from their death grip on Rick's biceps and he leaned down. Their lips meshed in a slippery, filthy connection of souls. Daryl straddling him had been life-affirming enough, but with the hunter's hungry mouth and dexterous tongue wrecking havoc on his senses, Rick found himself nothing short of just plain gone. Bending his arms at the elbows gave him access to the smooth and scarred skin of Daryl's waist and belly, a privilege he took advantage of without hesitation. Daryl made a small, growling sound in the back of his throat and released his hold on Rick's biceps. Rick immediately slid one hand up under Daryl's shirts, jacket and vest, splaying it over the other man's pounding heart. His other hand, Rick slid around to the small of Daryl's back, fingertips slipping just inside the waistband of Daryl's jeans. Daryl responded by grinding down into Rick's lower abdomen.

 

The moan he heard, however, was not his. It was raspy and followed by the thump of something tumbling over the low wall. Daryl glanced up and Rick tipped his head back, the kiss broken for the moment. A single Walker had taken its last tumble tripping itself over the wall. Its arm and fingers reached for them from a good ten feet away, but it was taking the thing a moment to figure out the art of becoming a Crawler. The feeling of the Colt Python leaving its holster was like a caress to the side of his thigh and brought Rick's attention back to Daryl.

 

Slitted eyes studied the piece for a moment before he leaned forward and down again. He braced a little of his weight on the heel of the hand holding the gun as he kissed Rick again in the same filthy way the Walker had interrupted and then he abruptly got to his feet. Dazed, Rick stayed where he was, watching in an upside down haze as Daryl made his way over to the Walker with efficient, confident strides. His buck knife went into the thing's skull in a flash of metal in the dying sunlight and then he was wiping the congealed blood off on the Walker's shoulder.

 

Rick's eyes tracked Daryl the man's whole way back to where Rick still lay. Rick folded his hands on his stomach once Daryl stood over him and stared up into the coloring twilight sky. It would be dark soon. Daryl eased himself down beside the former deputy and Rick turned his head to look at Daryl. The man was turning the pistol over and over in his hands, contemplating the firearm. It was a reliable weapon, one he was comfortable and familiar with. It had its quirks, but everything else about it made it worth its weight in gold these days. Not unlike the man beside him.

 

As if he'd heard that thought, Daryl looked over to Rick and reached up to push his long hair out of his eyes. "Okay," he murmured and reached over to slip the pistol back in its holster. It wasn't a romantic declaration of love, but it was a promise. Reaching over, Rick snagged the shoulder of Daryl's shirt and tugged him down until the redneck's head was resting on his shoulder and chest. Together they watched the pinks and oranges fade to purples and blacks and the absence at his side faded with them.

 

End


End file.
